and the reason is you
by affability
Summary: Four reasons why Jack can't possibly fall in love with Elsa, and the one reason why he does. AU. Jack/Elsa. (Cover art by Shahdar).


**a/n: **I've always, kind of, wanted to do high school-esque Jelsa, simply because I love the idea too much to put it down. Please review and tell me what you think! :) Title is from _The Reason_ by Hoobastank (brilliant song, go check it out if you haven't).

**and the reason is you  
><strong>Four reasons why Jack can't possibly fall in love with Elsa, and the one reason why he does. AU. Jack/Elsa.

_i._

Firstly, because Elsa is, by all means, a mystery.

Goodness is that girl complicated. For the many years that Jack has had the pleasure of knowing the aforementioned self-proclaimed ice queen as well as enduring an immense amount of Elsa-esque endeavors, he has (often at his own expense) learned that although very lovely and sweet, Elsa is a very opinionated, slightly impulsive, highly individualistic teen who also appears to have a low tolerance for nonsense. These observations would usually cause the average onlooker to contemplate why the hell the ceremonial blonde chooses to spend a vast majority of her valued time with Jack Frost, who is ultimately the utter opposite of Elsa in all her regality. He too wonders this on several occasions, but these queries would always be dismissed whenever she jokes or smiles in his direction, causing him to always come to the same conclusion: they simply had a connection, a connection neither of them was willing to give up.

He's merely strolling down the hall after gym class, slightly sweaty, but on a high dose of energy due to, once again, finishing first among the other runners. As usual, his own Jack-themed music plays in his mind as he walks, making his way to the centre of the school hallway, when he spots Toothiana approaching an oblivious Elsa, who appears to be heavily engrossed in her book. However, this does not appear to faze Toothiana, who seems determined to talk to her, making it a point to stand next to her and call her name over her shoulder. "Hey, Elsa?" she inquires smilingly, making her way to Elsa's orange locker.

The blonde's head instantly shoots up and her eyes widen slightly when she sees Toothiana.

"Hi Tooth," she greets, waving at her gingerly. Toothiana's grin widens at the usage of the common nickname and Jack watches from a few rows behind.

"So I was wondering," she says casually, choosing to lean on the locker beside Elsa's. _Jack's locker_. Elsa notices the act and raises an eyebrow quizzically. "Are you and Jack Frost, y'know, an item?" Toothiana asks as she plays with the loose ends of her hoodie as she speaks; conveniently missing the way Elsa ominously folds her arms as soon as the dreaded question is asked. Jack sighs as he watches, realizing that this is not likely to end well. Granted that although most of the time Elsa spends with Jack is spent in the presence her sister, Anna, who is much less of a headache and known to have more of a sweet-smiling, candy-coated nature that is often reflected in her trademark; her two russet plaits, the pair is still often the talk of Arendelle High due to the peculiar nature of their friendship. Many believe that their mutual friendship with Anna is merely an attempt to throw their fellow schoolmates off by falsely illustrating the image of a perfect group of companionable friends whilst Jack and Elsa focus on engaging in a highly improbable, secret relationship behind closed doors. Although this is entirely untrue, Jack often finds Elsa either politely declining the rumors while insisting that she and Jack share a very close, very platonic friendship or defensively yelling at every girl who perks up upon hearing the fact that the two are merely friends. This is proved to be true as Jack has seemed to walk in on what appears to be one of Elsa's rants onto yet another unsuspecting girl. This time the unsuspecting girl is none other than Toothiana Fisher, a strikingly pretty tenth grader with short black, dip-dyed green hair and piercing violet eyes.

Toothiana obliviously continues. "Because, he's really, _really_ cute, and well he seems to be really good with kids, like me." She grins, almost in a self-congratulatory way. "I've liked him for a while now… and, well, I'd like to ask him to the Winter Formal. I know it's a little early—"

"It's Spring," Elsa deadpans. Toothiana's cheeks turn bright crimson.

"I know, but I'm going to be away until the end of Autumn, and he's probably going to have a date by then. And if you two are together, I don't want to intrude on whatever you to have going on—"

"What we have going on," interrupts Elsa, her firm tone causing the slightly-frightened teen to step back, "is called a friendship. Something you people don't appear to think is possible to occur within opposing genders." Toothiana merely stares, wide-eyed, which Elsa takes as an inclination to continue. "I mean, so what if I'm dating Jack?" _Oh no_. Jack flinches. Elsa has a tendency to be downright bemusing in an attempt to prove a point; being hell-bent and going through great lengths to do so. And these efforts aren't always appreciated, rather they're often feared.

"So you are?" asks Toothiana, her tone colored with dejection. Elsa shakes her head.

"Hypothetically," she states, "what if I was hypothetically dating Jack? What if I hypothetically kiss him on a regular basis? What if I made it a point to push him against the lockers every single day and—"

Jack decides that now is a good time to step in. Without a second thought, he hurries to the both of them, running quickly. "Tooth," he calls out. "Els!" Capturing the attention of the two girls, he stands beside the both of them and impulsively throws his arms around both girls, drawing them closer and smiling from ear-to-ear. Whilst Toothiana delights in his coming and returns his smile instantaneously, Elsa visibly stiffens. He rolls his shoulders back and continues. "How are you two?" Elsa seizes the opportunity and places a persistent kiss on Jack's cheek. The entirely unforeseen gesture causes both Jack and Toothiana to jump back in surprise while Elsa folds her arms, facing Toothiana. "You see, it's a metaphor." Toothiana, now looking utterly perplexed, nods slowly before taking several steps back.

"Jack, uh, it's always nice to see you," she says cautiously, although she says this whilst simultaneously glancing anxiously at Elsa. Toothiana then swiftly turns on her heel and flees to the other end of the brightly-lit hallway. _Another one bites the dust_. He watches her, his hand traveling to his left cheek, before turning to stare at Elsa in bewilderment.

"Uh, mind telling me what that was for?" he asks, subconsciously still feeling his left cheek. "I mean, I know I always tell you how hot you are but I never thought—"

"Please, Jack," she says sternly, grabbing her books and smiling innocently at him. "I was merely proving a point."

"Which was?"

Before Elsa can respond, she is cut off by the sound of the pitter-patter of combat boots on the ground, which is a result of Anna feverishly running down the hall. The brunette's hazel eyes lights up once she spots the pair, increasing her speed and running towards the both of them. "Sorry I'm late," she hurries, struggling to balance both her coffee and her books in her two dainty hands. Jack grabs her cup and she smiles in gratefully. "You won't believe what a monster Principal Weselton is."

"Oh we believe it all right," he says knowingly, still holding her cup. "Remember what you would recite every morning all throughout freshman year? _Principal Weselton is the_—"

"_The bane of my existence_," she finishes proudly. "And he is." She sighs, looks around the slowly emptying hall and then instantaneously perks up. "So, can we go get lunch now? I want to get there before they run out of chocolate frappes!"

"Chocolate?" Elsa replies in a childlike manner, her voice colored with enthusiasm. "I am there." And immediately after those words leave Elsa's pinkish mouth, she runs out of the school hallway and to the outdoor student café, leaving Jack and Anna behind. He stares after her for a moment too long before turning to meet Anna's gaze.

"Jack," she says, a look of concern plastered on her face. "Are you okay?"

"I don't really know."

_ii_.

Because she looks too damn beautiful in that little black dress.

He always knew she was pretty—hell he's _always_ been vocal about her pervasive beauty, constantly commenting whenever she chooses to parade around her house in white tank tops or skirts in his presence or whenever she chooses to wear essentially anything that shows off her lengthy pale legs. She usually either giggles or smacks him playfully across the head, depending on her mood, but she would never take offense to it. He believes this is due to the fact that he never did it in a douche-like manner; always pausing to see her reaction before saying anything else and never doing it in a way whereby his words would be derogatory or objectifying, it was merely something the both of them did to each other often and something Anna would constantly find amusement in. But today, damn it today—Anna tells him that she wants the three of them to go shopping at the mall, so he ridiculously agrees (why does it seem that he cannot say no to the pigtailed brunette?) and halfway through the journey within the area Anna sees a lacy black dress at a store name the Arctic and begs Elsa to try it on.

"It'll look so good with your skin tone!" she tells her, clutching the dress as if it were her life support. Elsa stares at her incredulously and sighs, her arms crossed.

"Anna, no," Elsa says coolly, turning to fiddle with the photo frame that's adorned with seashells. Anna protests loudly, gesturing wildly to the dress and Elsa blatantly ignores her. "Won't this go nicely in our living room?" she voices out, still fiddling with the exterior. Anna groans, exasperated.

"Jack!" she pleads, turning to him for assistance. He cringes; he'd rather not get in the middle of their habitual sisterly half-fights. Anna was fully aware of this, but that doesn't mean she allowed or respected it. "Tell her!"

"I personally think you look good in everything," he says casually. She looks at him with a half smirk. "But come on, listen to your sister."

"Psh," she scoffs. "I'm the older one. Shouldn't she be listening to me?" Elsa continues staring at the picture frames whilst Anna pouts, crossing her arms tightly.

"Come _on_, Els," she pleads once again, the usage of the childhood nickname causing Elsa to sigh.

"Fine," she agrees, a little begrudgingly. "But only for a second and then—"

"And _then_ you'll see how good you look and you'll thank me endlessly," she states, grinning effervescently. But she was indeed right. When Elsa emerges from that dressing room, she glooms. She is, like, literally radiating beauty. The dress isn't too snug, or too long, it fits her perfectly, just like running water, and her long braid, although messy, seems to be the perfect addition to the outfit. Jack has to physically restrain his jaw from dropping and Anna squeals with delight, taking the time to fawn over the dress. Elsa takes all of this with a grain of salt, humoring her ultimately good-natured sister who means well, and when she meets Jack's eye, she smiles sheepishly. When Anna leaves to find the matching shoes, Elsa makes her way over to Jack and sits on the chair beside him.

"I can never say no to her," she says quietly, breaking the edgy silence, and then she chuckles. "Ever since we were kids – she would wake me up in the middle of the night because it was snowing for the first time in months and she wanted to build a snowman. I'd always say yes, even if I argued, even if I was tired and wanted more sleep. For some reason, I can't say no, there's just something about her." He turns to face her.

"I know what you mean," he tells her, fumbling with the strings of his hoodie. "My little sister, Emma, she's got this obsession with ice-skating and she's good at it too, almost too good. I have this theory that she's going to end up doing it professionally one day, like Olympic-style professionally." Elsa chuckles. He continues, "and she always brought me out in the morning just to skate." He pauses for a moment. "I was the one who started it though, I'd always take her out to do skate, and then she just started doing the same to me. Even when I said no, she'd ask and ask until I finally said yes. She's this determined little thing, doesn't take no for an answer, a lot like you."

"You realize we've been friends for years and I've never once met your sister, right?" Elsa points out. He smiles.

"That's, well, 'cause I don't let just anyone meet her," he states, as a matter of fact. Another silence ensues, but he can hear her tapping her fingernails on the counter.

"I'm not just anyone," she reminds him, albeit gently. And she's right, she most certainly isn't. She is, without a doubt, his closest friend, the person he has confided in the most. She knows almost everything there is to know about him, and yet, there's still an unknown barrier between the both of them. He thinks maybe it's because underneath all the smugness, smirks and jokes, he finds it hard to be close to anyone without essentially screwing the relationship up. He and Elsa, their friendship is (as cheesy as it sounds) special, something he cherishes deeply, and it is not something he is willing to risk. When he escapes his reverie to tell her this, he sees Anna joyously walking towards them, a blonde salesman who looks around their age in tow who is holding a large collection of shoes. Elsa groans. The moment has passed.

"Anna!" she says, appalled. Anna smiles reassuringly.

"Not to worry, sis, Kristoff," she gestures to the tall male behind her, "showed me the prices and they're all very affordable. Plus, don't they look great with the dress?" Elsa sighs deeply and Jack smiles fondly at Anna, who proceeds to help Kristoff with the unloading of the vast amount of shoes. Anna then instructs Elsa to take off her sneakers and she obliges wordlessly, although reluctantly. Anna enthusiastically holds up pair after pair, throwing them aside if they don't fit or if they don't go well with the dress. Jack merely watches.

"I still think you should buy the dress," says Anna, whilst holding up another pair of crystal high heels.

"Perhaps I could wear it to the Winter Formal," says Elsa, her small smile broadening as she turns to face Jack. He laughs.

"The Winter Formal?" questions Kristoff, bemused. "But… it's Spring."

_iii. _

Because Elsa is, ultimately, just too _good_ for him.

She's pretty, (yes, we've already established that), but she's not just that. She's _smart_ too. Not just book-smart, although she is that too. Taking almost every honors class known to mankind, Elsa is the literal definition of beauty and brains. She doesn't hide her intelligence like some girls who dumb down to appear cute, no—Elsa takes pride in her work, being meticulous to the bone with projects and schoolwork (all of her essays are always like, what, two hundred pages?). Everybody knows she's in due time going to be valedictorian, so why bother even attempting to compete with her? Her grades are exemplary and so is her work attitude. In the midst of the student café, whilst all of the other students of Arendelle High spend their summer afternoons either practicing archery like Merida and her cronies, or riding horses like Hiccup, Elsa actually bothers to come back to school and spend her time on the tables underneath the umbrellas studying her days away. Out comes the black rimmed glasses and revision notes and everyone unanimously makes a mental note to leave Elsa alone to do her studying. Everyone except Jack, that is.

He casually walks towards her and sits at the table opposite hers and begins tapping it. She irritably looks up from her Geography book upon the interruption, allowing her piercing blue eyes to meet his, and her expression immediately softens once she sees his smiling face and she pushes her glasses back. "Don't you have to study?" she questions, staring pointedly at the loose-leaf pages of her textbook.

"Who studies during _summer_?" he replies offhandedly. "I mean, other than blonde-haired girls with black glasses and Geography fetishes." She smiles hesitantly, looking up once again to meet his blue-eyed gaze.

"Go away, Jack," she says good-humoredly, but he merely smiles at her once more and remains seated. They inadvertently make it a weekly routine; her studying away, him observing her and the both of them collectively going out for coffee afterwards. They've been finding themselves with a lot more time together ever since Anna took up a summer job as a salesgirl alongside Kristoff at the Arctic. Eventually he starts bringing his own books because while he admittedly wouldn't really mind just looking at her (because she is actually really cute when she studies; with her nose scrunched up and her eyes intently examining the words), he has to do _something_ else. For a while, it's simply silence amidst them as they study. He looks up from his Biology textbook, attempting to see what she's studying this time. It's English; she's reading some Shakespearean play (or sonnet, whatever that is). Her brows are furrowed together as she reads, a ballpoint pen tapping lightly against her cheek, stopping ever so slightly to underline a sentence or use a brightly-colored highlighter, and then she instantaneously continues, her intense level of focus becoming slightly intimidating. He tries mimicking her actions, but the words all seem to jumble and blur together, causing his brain cells to scramble. He sighs, looking up once again – only this time he finds her staring right back him. Her eyebrow is cocked and she's looking at him with a ghost of a smile.

"Jack," she finally says, "you're not really studying, are you?"

"I'm _trying_," he states, a little sullenly. "It's just that I don't get it. Like, how is learning any of this going to help me? Mitochondria is, well, just useless." She laughs brightly, a little bit to herself, and then positions herself next to him.

"You've got it all wrong," she says gently, placing her fingers on the pages and flipping through them heedlessly. "And also, mitochondria is the plural form of the singular mitochondrion. So, actually, it's supposed to be mitochondria _are_ useless. Which, technically, they're not, far from it. They're responsible for—"

"Spare me," he pleads. She smiles.

"You should know this by now." She pauses for a second. "And Biology is easier than you think."

"Oh really," he says, raising a challenging eyebrow. "Then teach me."

She stares back, without missing a beat. "Okay." And there it is – she accepts it with no questions asked, no protests. She abandons her book and instead explains everything in extensive detail, going the extra mile to draw diagrams and taking the time to write up little study notes for him. She's a patient teacher, he soon finds, and is not easily angered by a frequent dose of questions. Unsurprisingly, she has a whole stack of Biology revision notes and assessment books tucked safely away in her bag, all in pristine condition. He handles them carefully, shocked that she's willing to give him, of all people, her prized possessions – which are undoubtedly her books. She highlights key points and writes down learning objectives while he listens attentively and throughout the one and a half hour he spends with her, he finds himself absorbing more information than he did for the entirety of the first two semesters of his actual Biology class. When she's done, she clicks her pen and collects all of the study materials and circumspectly places them in a rather large crystal blue ring file before handing it to him.

"Here," she says, giving him a thousand watt smile. "Take these and _use them_—don't let them rot away on your desk in your room."

"But," he says, a little shakily. "Els, they're yours. You take Biology too."

"Please," she responds, waving her hand dismissively in the air. "I have hundreds of those. You take them. We'll use them over the summer." She looks at him when she says this, her blue eyes sparkling, and he wordlessly obliges. He doesn't voice it out, but he likes the fact that she says _we_, as if there will be more sessions like this. And sure enough, there are. Week after week, she teaches him again, only now she comes prepared. She prepares mini tests and assessments in advance for him and although her style of teaching contains a large amount of textbook work and rigorous tests, she is ultimately a far more creative and exuberant teacher than Mr. Isles. Gradually, Biology becomes, dare he say it, _interesting_.

One day, however, amidst all the test papers and worksheets, she looks at him sternly and says, "I'm failing."

He nearly chokes on his chocolate frappe.

"You're _failing_?" he spits out, facing her with wide eyes, "In _what_?"

"Gym," she responds blankly.

A silence occurs immediately before it is instantaneously diminished by the sound of Jack's unsuppressed laughter.

She looks at him in incredulity while he continues to laugh. The word _Elsa_ and _failing_ are not usually constructed in the same sentence. Her blue eyes narrow into slits. "This is serious!" she says. "It's affecting my GPA and I need to get it sorted out before it's—" she stops herself when his laughter grows considerably louder. She throws a crushed up piece of paper at his head and his laughter ultimately ceases, causing her to smile in satisfaction. "I need your help. You're good in gym; you can train me!"

"Okay," he agrees. "I just never imagined the day you would need _my_ help."

"The tables have turned," she replies, although she says this optimistically. And so, he trains with her. They ultimately decide to train on Mondays and Saturdays, going to the track field and running alongside one another. At first she is slow, running behind him and struggling to keep up. After their first practice, he tells her to start eating healthier. "Are you kidding me?" she questions when he enters her house with containers of apples, bananas, strawberries and grapes as well as a pitcher filled with green tea in tow the following Saturday. She raises a groomed eyebrow.

"I know I'm probably the last person who should be giving you health tips right now," he says while unloading the containers. "But, well, this will help after a while." And it does. She gradually gets better over time, increasing her speed as she jogs. The routine is wearisome but essentially productive—in the mornings they would run, in the afternoons they would study and, finally, the both of them, although joined by Anna and Kristoff, reward themselves with iced chocolate frappes afterwards in the evening. One day, amongst all the insanity, she turns to him and says, "We make a good team."

"Yeah," he replies, without missing a beat. "We do."

_iv_.

Because everything about them, even their first kiss, is an accident, _really_.

He thinks it's because it's in the middle of Autumn and the brown leaves are entangling with yellow ones and it's really just the atmosphere of it all. Really. So he and Elsa are driving serenely along the roadside from the track field, she's quietly staring out the window and jamming her hands in her pockets and he's wordlessly driving, keeping his eyes on the road. All's fine and dandy until an earsplitting, overwhelming sound invades their surroundings and ultimately results in the car being unable to swerve down the empty, leaf-ridden roadway any longer.

Curious, the two instantly get out of the car first and collectively gasp upon seeing the source; it's, of course, a flat tire. Elsa groans, exasperated, and turns to face him. "Jack," she says, albeit still maintaining her composure. "Do you have a spare tire?"

He looks at her cautiously. "Of course I do," he protests, defensive. Then he pauses. "It's right there." He points to the first wheel on the left, firmly planted on the ground. She takes a deep breath and then folds her arms.

"Jack!" she whines piercingly. "How could you forget to replace the tire?"

"I didn't forget," he insists. "I _procrastinated_. There's a difference." She throws her hands in the air, by way of reply, and walks away from the car, mumbling something incomprehensible underneath her breath while whipping her cell phone out and aggressively punching in what he assumes to be Anna's phone number. As she holds her phone to her ear and starts speaking, he waits by the car, realizing that of all places they decide to get lost in, it ultimately is in the middle of a roadside, far away from civilization. She returns from her phone call about five minutes later, looking slightly assured but still equally ticked off.

"Anna doesn't get off work for another hour," she says, folding her arms. "So it looks like we're stuck here."

"We could do Biology," he jokes, and she actually smiles, in spite of herself.

Abruptly, she turns to him and says, "earlier this year, Tooth came up to me and started talking about you."

"I know," he responds coolly. "I was there."

"She said you were good with kids," she says, pausing for a moment to see his reaction. "How does she know that?"

Silence – it's becoming more common in their relationship nowadays, and he's beginning to think it holds some form of symbolism. Damn those English books she made him read. He meets her soft gaze. "She hung out with Emma and me, a few months ago. I don't know, I guess she liked what she saw." He attempts to brush it off, but he knows, just knows that Elsa isn't going to let it go.

"She met her?"

"Yeah, because we were working on a History project and, well, she wanted to do it at my house. And that's when she met Emma and—" he elaborates, but she cuts him off midsentence, her blue eyes squinting underneath the sunlight.

"I thought you don't let _just anyone_ meet her," she crosses her arms, injecting venom into her tone. Elsa has this thing whereby she is somehow able to terrorize others without needing to raise her voice, her words successfully obtaining the desired effect while simultaneously being at the brink of equanimity. And that's precisely what she's doing now.

"I don't," he reiterates.

"So I'm just anyone to you?" she continues, beginning to ramble. "She means more to you, then?"

"No, Elsa, she doesn't," he says. Almost instantly, she drops the topic, staring off into the distance and allowing the wind to blow her platinum blonde hair in the other direction, wordlessly deciding to stare at her polished dark blue fingernails. She's wearing those black rimmed glasses again, the kind that frames her cerulean irises perfectly, and also the kind that have a tendency to slowly, but surely, slip to the edge of her nose. She would always instantly push them back as soon as they began teetering and, sure enough, they began wobbling to the tip of her nose and she pushed them back with her index finger, a little grimly. Goodness, she was pretty. The silence was achingly long, almost unbearable, and he ultimately decides that he cannot take it anymore and speaks up, albeit softly

"She doesn't mean more to me, Elsa, you should know that," he says. She doesn't respond, clutching the ends of her hair instead. "She _doesn't_. Emma just happened to be home at that time."

"I don't care, Jack. You don't have to explain anything to me."

"Yeah, you do," he says sternly. "And I do have to explain."

"Forget it," she says, forcing a smile. She nonchalantly pushes her glasses back. Damn, she's cute. "It's just a misunderstanding. It's simple, really. It is." She breathes out heavily, blowing a visible breath into the air, and turning to face him. "I'm totally fine with it."

"Elsa."

"I am, because this shouldn't be a big deal. And it isn't a big deal. It's just—"

And then he kisses her. It's not like he _meant_ to, but it just, sort of, happened. It's the only thing he can think of to get her to stop talking, to stop making mountains out of molehills. He figures that if she won't listen to what he has to say, then well, this is the only solution. It's safe to say he's caught her off guard, because she's absolutely motionless, unmoving, still, damn it she's downright _frozen_. He pulls apart, looking at her, and she blinks owlishly at him. _Damn it, damn it, damn it_. For the first time, he's managed to strike her speechless, but for all the wrong reasons. He opens his mouth to say something, _anything_, he hunts desperately for an explanation while she just blinks and continues staring at him incredulously, almost as if he came out of a dream. Or a nightmare, or maybe both. Before he can say anything, he hears the distant sound of car honks and they both whip their head in the opposite direction, only to be greeted by a jovial Anna.

"Hey!" she merrily calls out, smiling innocently whilst driving towards them. "I got out of work early. I hope you guys didn't get into too much trouble without me."

They remain silent.

_v. _

All these scenarios play like a mantra inside of his head.

He's lying on his bed, wordlessly throwing a tennis ball at his cerulean bedroom ceiling, just thinking. Elsa, by all accounts, should come with her very own instruction guide. He decides, there and then, that he needs a _How To: Deal With Your Overly Ambitious, Sneakily Hot Best Friend That You Just Might Be In Love_ _With_ pamphlet. If such a thing does exist, he does not doubt for a second that the cover would consist of a large, full-color picture of her right at the very centre. And not just any picture of her, one of her at the school café, with her black rimmed glasses and half-smirk and braided blonde hair. Whilst surrounded by all of her stupid Shakespeare sonnets. Well, not actually stupid. But he hates that she's got him spending countless sleepless nights, trying in vain to figure her out. He hates that she, and only she, only ever has the ability to make his heart race like twelve billion miles per second and that she unknowingly used it when she got out of that dressing room in that little black dress. He hates that she's actually got him interested in school, in studying, and that whenever he runs or trains by himself, he feels empty; like he's missing something immensely vital. He hates that she doesn't respond when he kisses her for the first time, that she just looks at him, and he _hates_ that she's got him hating himself for actually doing it. Most of all, he hates that she's got him sitting in his room all alone during the night of the Winter Formal, dateless and alone, because it doesn't seem right to go with anyone. But overall, he can't seem to hate _her_.

He just mostly hates himself. He seethes whenever he thinks of how amazingly stupid he had been. If only there was some other way to fix this. If only he fell for the Toothiana's of the world and not the Elsa's. But that's not the case. He has to get entangled with one of the most obfuscating girls he has ever met and he has no idea if she's ever going to speak to him again, _ever_. As if on cue, knocks emerge from his windowpane and he turns around to see her, waving incessantly from his fogged window. He jumps out of his bed, runs carelessly to his window and opens it in one swift motion. He then steps aside and allows her room to come in. She's wearing the blue winter coat he left at her house ages ago, and, although a tad too big for her, she doesn't seem to have any intention of taking it off any time soon. She coolly brushes of the flecks of snow and ice on her jeans and removes her boots.

"Hey," she greets, lifting a glove-covered hand in the air. He sighs.

"Hey," he echoes, making his way to his bed. Then he pauses. "You're talking to me now?"

"Yes," she responds, without missing a beat, and then proceeds to plow beside him. Silence, an old friend, ensues and then she stops fretting with her gloves. "I'm sorry I just, kind of, stood there, when we, _y'know_." He flinches. _Here we go_.

"Listen, Elsa, I was stupid," he tries, turning to face her.

"Correction," she interjects. "You _are_ stupid. Well, at least stupid enough to ignore me for the rest of the month without a valid explanation." And then she pauses, reconsiders, and begins shifting closer to him, her voice now in a hushed whisper. "I just want us to go back to the way we were."

And there lies the silent killer.

The window of opportunity is shining brightly in front of him, this is his chance. It is his chance to go back and resume his role in Elsa's life as her goofy, self-regarding and although ultimately lovable egotistical best friend just as he had done so in the past. It would not be a new occurrence; he'd simply be going back to his old habits, going back to being the one prominent guy in her life who stuck around for her and not for any physical characteristics or whatnot. The kind of guy who merely observes at her across the table at the student café and studies with her for fun, the kind of guy who runs with her in an attempt to improve her otherwise perfect GPA, the kind of guy who carries her coffee and reads her books and insults her choice of literature lightheartedly. The kind guy who only manages to make comments about the way she looks because he doesn't have a chance in hell to kiss her and tell her genuinely, without the smirks and eventual head-smacks, because that's the kind of guy he has always been, and the kind he had always assumed he would continue being. But he realizes that he doesn't want to be that guy. He wants more than that, he wants _her_. He doesn't just want to be around her; he wants so, so much more than that. And for the longest time, he couldn't figure out why. And that's when it hits him.

He loves her. Damn.

It's for all the reasons he shouldn't, in every way he once deemed impossible, and mainly because she's _her_, and nobody can compare or even attempt to. Fight or flight, and for the longest time he has just been running in the other direction. _It's time to stop_. And he feels a relieving amount of weight being lifted off his shoulders once he comes to this conclusion, on a wintery evening in his bedroom with the girl of his dreams. And that's a fact. So he turns to her once more, sternly this time, and says, with utmost sincerity, "I don't."

"Why?" she asks, a little softly. It's perhaps the most tentative he's ever seen her and he wonders if he means as much to her as she does to him. And there's probably only one way to find out. Granted, it hasn't worked before but he _is_ ultimately on the brink of losing her and there is nothing left to lose, while everything to gain.

And so he kisses her again. Much like the first time, he is utterly petrified. The same surge of terror surges through his veins once he realizes that he has unknowingly given the opportunity for her to, once again, remain absolutely still and unresponsive before in due course pushing him off and running away. And she does, indeed, respond exactly the way she did before. At least for the first few seconds, until she _finally_ begins reciprocating and he grins uncontrollably when he feels her undauntedly hooking her arms around his neck and bringing him closer. He doesn't think he's ever felt an almost nauseatingly measureless change of emotions in such a short period of time but he ultimately doesn't care because he is finally, _finally_ kissing her again after what seems like an eternity of waiting and she is _finally_ letting him. He feels a promise of forever being indulged into his skin and then she pulls apart and grinningly whispers, "I don't want us to go back, either."

"Good," he responds instantaneously, before kissing her again.

And as if on cue, his room door bursts flying open and the two immediately break apart, only to be faced with a wide-eyed little girl. She giggles enthusiastically before proceeding to skip around the room merrily, chanting something about Jack and his (apparent) long list of girlfriends and dancing lightheartedly around the room before Elsa turns to face him with a raised eyebrow that speaks volumes.

_Emma? _

He nods in confirmation, without hesitation, and she breaks into a wide, toothy grin. It's an oddly intimate gesture for him to let her meet his sister. Goodness knows how awfully wrong it felt when Toothiana managed to do so before anybody else; she was, good-natured, but slightly clumsy. But Elsa is different. She marches over to Emma and curtly carries her up into the air, playing lightly with her russet curls. Emma laughs cheerfully and lifts her arms into the air-conditioned air and, upon learning Elsa's name; she chants it around the room. She readily responds to Elsa's gesture by enthusiastically playing with her blonde hair as well; fondling her long blonde braid in awe and twirling her tendrils affectionally. Elsa grins fondly before leaning forward and gently placing her on the ground, still ruffling her chestnut curls. "I'd love to stick around," she tells her, with utmost sincerity. "But Jack and I have to go."

"We do?" he asks, alarmed.

"Yes," she insists, hand still firmly on Emma's head. "We're going to the Winter Formal." She turns around and opens her bag, lifting up a tailored tuxedo and carefully handing it to Jack. "I picked it up on my way here." And this time, she breaks into another wide, slightly timorous smile. He raises an eyebrow.

"And you?"

"Oh I've got it covered." She picks Emma up in her arms once more and holds out her hand for a high five. "We won't be gone too long."

"That's okay," she replies enthusiastically. "Come back soon!" And then she promptly runs out of the room, leaving the two alone again. He faces her.

"So, you just knew I was going to say yes?" he questions, although smilingly. She shrugs.

"I didn't know," she responds. "I _hoped_. There's a difference."

And so, they don their respective attires. She refrains from wearing the little black dress, but she does wear a lengthy blue one, which ultimately does suit her better.

The night is manages to spur into nothing but a big, hazy blur—he enters the room with her and the both of them eventually join Anna and Kristoff at the dance floor. Principal Weselton goes to the middle of the dance floor and performs some abrupt, disturbing version of the Boogie and the students find themselves riddled with an unsuppressed dose of laughter. He and Hiccup manage to dance wildly for a moment on the stage before Rapunzel and Merida lure them both into a colorful dance train which the other students eventually indulge in. The loud music from the speakers dulls the atmosphere and when Toothiana finds him in the middle of the dance floor and indulges in a conversation with him, but the conversation is ultimately broken when Elsa appears, out of the blue, hooking her arm around his, whilst he chuckles.

"Elsa," says Toothiana drearily, sighing heavily. "Give it a rest."

This ultimately leads the blonde to raise a quizzical eyebrow before turning around and kissing him indefatigably. Without prior notice, the music fades and the piercing blur of noisy teenagers is diminished and all he can think about is her. He then begins to hear a collective murmur of giggles and a considerably large amount of gasps from students but he dismisses them when he wraps his arms around her waist and draws her closer. _Let them talk_. He feels her hands travel up to his hair and she ruffles it lightheartedly, grinning, which he ultimately deems as a gesture of endearment. Hiccup, Merida and Rapunzel cohesively break out into a collection of whoops, whistles and hollers while the others are silent, supposedly in complete and utter bemusement.

"A large majority of you now owe me twenty!" a student, distinctively male, yells maniacally in the air, somewhere in the background.

"No way, I called it first!"

Once the two pull apart, they turn around to find that a vast majority of the student population of Arendelle High have, ultimately, betted on the both of them. It seems that Anna has, unbeknownst to them, joined in on the fun and has won the bet by a landslide. One by one, the students stop their dramatic dancing and partying, making a beeline to queue up in front of Anna, lining up their cash. Kristoff soon joins Anna in counting the dollar bills splattered on the table in front of her and he chuckles. He always knew they were a popular topic, but he never expected people to willingly bet actual cash on the sanctity of his and Elsa's relationship. After Anna has successfully confirmed her newfound wealth and the students clear out, the blaringly loud music is once again blasted from the amplifiers and the students instantaneously return to their respective partners at the dance floor.

"You really don't like her, do you?" he asks, smilingly, whilst gesturing to Toothiana, and she solemnly shrugs.

"Are you mad?" she asks him, a little quietly, after the chaos of the night is over and the room is emptied.

"What, because you didn't wear the black dress?" he asks lightheartedly, without missing a beat. "Dont worry; while I am deeply saddened by your abrupt decision, I am also immensely generous, so I do forgive you." He pauses. "Mainly because you still look hot."

She promptly smacks him upside the head. He grins wildly.

And, alas, some things never change.

* * *

><p>an: woah one of the longest oneshots ever, but yes okay shout out to Shahdar for the cover art who actually stayed up with me and drew while I wrote. (She has the same name on this website & on Devianart). Anyway please, /please/ review and tell me what you think! :)


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